


Are you death or paradise?

by Deeambles



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeambles/pseuds/Deeambles
Summary: Hashirama doesn’t though. He never does and Madara doesn’t know why he humors him in his continued existence.He doesn’t know why Hashirama lets him live, when everyone else clearly wants him dead.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	Are you death or paradise?

When Hashirama breathes in, Madara can hear the air suck into his lungs and shake the very ground beneath his feet. 

When Hashirama laughs Madara can hear the power echoing around the room, powerful and strong, like an explosion tag setting off next to his head, leaving you wondering how you could have ever missed him. 

When Hashirama walks down the street, benevolently letting Madara walk by his side, Madara can feel the air around them part, a vortex that sucks them to wherever their going. A path of destruction that lasts both too long and too short for Madara’s sanity to survive. 

Now, as Madara lays beneath Hashirama in an effort to appease one of them, he realizes he has the Calvary in his ear. Loud and strong and every breath Hashirama takes, Madara feels his lungs expand to his rib cage and prepare for what could be a mighty katon jutsu if. Hashirama. Just. Tried. 

Hashirama doesn’t though. He never does and Madara doesn’t know why he humors him in his continued existence. 

He doesn’t know why Hashirama lets him live, when everyone else clearly wants him dead. 

Instead Hashirama lets out a moan into Madara’s shoulder and he can’t help but smile into straight black hair, hands glancing off strong rope like muscles that make up Hashirama’s shoulders and back. 

When Madara throws his head back after a particularly rough thrust, Hashirama is there to attack his neck and make sure he forgets anything from before. 

Only after, when they are curled up and around each other like there still two young boys meeting illicitly on a cliff side, does Madara wonder when this gig will be up.

When, Madara thinks, stretching on the side of desperate, when will Hashirama open his eyes to the world at large and see Madara for the monster laying under his bed. 

When will Hashirama discard him like his family has. 

“Madara?” Hashirama murmurs into the crown of Madara’s head. 

Madara hums in response, curious for better or worse and much to ready to escape from his own head. 

“I love you.” Hashirama says. It echoes in their shared space, and it rings in its aftermath. 

Madara smiles into Hashirama’s collar bone and responds with a simple, “ I love you too.” 

How he could not when he lays with a man more like a god. Someone who could crush him. Someone who could destroy him inside and out. 

A part inside Madara preens at the affections though. This part is dehydrated and frail, and doomed to break apart any second. It’s that, Madara thinks, that Hashirama must see when he looks at him. Why Hashirama chooses to keep him around and pretend to love him so. 

A pet project and Madara’s rage has never burned hotter when he thinks of it. 

The other part of him, the rational part thinks the only way to kill a god is to become one yourself and Madara is not no matter what people whisper behind his back. 

Hashirama though, he is beautiful and benevolent and stronger than any man could ever dream. 

Madara keeps himself close out of necessity, out of survival, out of the need to know how to kill this god when the time comes. 

For now, he curls into Hashirama’s chest and relishes in the warmth on his cold skin. Hashirama flinches when he presses cold feet and he withholds a smile when shoves cold hands beneath the other man’s ribs. 

“Sage, Madara, where does all your warmth go?” Hashirama teases. 

Madara looks up then, it would be too suspicious to ignore, and looks up at Hashirama all golden brown and glowing with warmth. He knows he looks like a cold pale replica of a human next to him but he still cracks a ghost of a smile when he deflects the question. 

“What are you going to do about it?” Madara asks. The real answer too obvious. Too real with Hashirama right in front of him. 

The god smiles, looks upon him and leans down. 

“I’m sure we can find something.” 

Madara’s flat on his back again when he sees the answer carved into the ceiling. 

Death. One of them has to or they’ll be stuck forever. Doomed to dance whatever it is they are doing now. The black face smiles at him, yellow teeth reflecting off yellow yellow eyes. 

He’s not a god, and he won’t win against Hashirama. 

But with death smiling down on him he feels as if he has a chance. 

He’s not a god. He can’t win. 

He smiles back. 

(Not yet) 

**Author's Note:**

> well okay then


End file.
